Many people adopt because they’re unable to have their own biological children; however, that was not the case for my husband and I. Our hearts broke knowing there are children in the foster care system who age out of the system without knowing the permanency of family.

Andrew and I wished to provide a home for a child (or two, as it so happened) in the system.

Admittedly, it was partly selfish, too. I hated being pregnant. I had a rare condition called cholestasis, and a very difficult delivery (almost 48 hours of labor, four hours of pushing), and had no desire to go through that EVER again.

People say you forget all about the pain and discomfort after it’s over.

I didn’t.

In my defense, though, we made this choice before I got pregnant.

As cheesy as it sounds, I always wanted to make a difference in the world. It was the motivation behind every career I dreamed of as a child: nun, psychologist, occupational therapist.

And now, writer.

Many adoptees get upset because they don’t want to be viewed as a charity case. I don’t look at my daughters, or any other adopted person, as a charity case.

I look at it as being practical. Why would I go through the hell of pregnancy, labor and delivery again when there are children in the foster care system who need homes?

The journey to adopting my daughters could be summed up in with one sentence:

In his heart a man plans his course but the LORD determines his steps.(Proverbs 16:9)

When Andrew and I began the adoption process, we were looking to adopt a child around 5-8 years. Because we had learned in our foster-adoption classes that older black boys were the least desirable* and most difficult to place, we filled out the pre-placement adoption paperwork with that in mind.

What we planned to do and what we did ended up being two completely different things…

Paige, a white baby girl, was three months old when we began visits, and five months old when she moved in. Even though she had severe drug withdrawal, she was still considered the most sought-after type of child.*

Payton, her older sister, came to live with us just before she turned three. As a young white child, she was also considered highly adoptable.*

Andrew and I did not have problems conceiving nor did we desire another baby, which was why we didn’t want to adopt an infant, or even a three-year-old.

So, how did we veer so far from our planned course?

Ruth: The mother of my daughters.**

The whole story started when I became Ruth’s birth coach. My plan wasn’t to adopt Ruth’s baby but that’s what happened. And then we adopted Payton, Ruth’s older daughter when they were unable to reunify.

I was thinking about all this tonight while walking my dog because Ruth and I met for coffee today. Things are still up in the air about how and when we will open up the adoption; however, there is one thing we both know without a shadow of a doubt.

It was God’s plan that we meet and be the mothers of these two beautiful girls.

* These aren’t my words but what we were told in our foster-adopt classes and by the social workers.

** For the most part, I’ve decided to forgo any sort of qualifier when referencing Ruth. She is the mother of my daughters, just as I am the mother of her daughters.

The following is a post from my other blog, which has since been taken down. I thought it worthwhile to share as we approaching the one-year mark since this occurred:

Today is the month of school for my kiddos. You’re probably expecting a blog post about my kids, all their milestones, my hopes and dreams, etc.

But that’s not what I’m writing about today.

I want to introduce Bonnie, the dog we adoptedfrom the shelter.

I named her Bonnie for two reasons:

The shelter named her Tawnie, which I didn’t like, so renamed her Bonnie, which rhymes.

It is also to honor my beloved cat Clyde, whom I lost three years ago.

I’ve used the new addition to our family to talk about adoption.

“We’re giving Bonnie a home because she needs someone to take care of her. She will be part of the family and live with us forever.” (barring the cats acting out…)

Although I didn’t state directly how Bonnie’s situation correlates with theirs, I hope the message got through on some level.

Adopt has numerous meanings but these three are especially fitting for the situation surrounding Payton and Paige, and Bonnie:

Tochooseortakeasone’sown;makeone’sownbyselectionor assent.

To takeandrear(thechildofotherparents)asone’sownchild, specificallybyaformallegalact.

Totakeorreceiveintoanykindofnewrelationship.

Number one reminds me that adopting Payton and Paige was not an accident or unplanned event,it was a choice. We chose to help them, help their biological family, and expand our family through adoption.

Number three points out that not only did I enter a new relationship by becoming the mother of two little girls, they went into a new relationship with a different mother.

Even though the second definition is technically how all three of them became part of our family, I find myself preferring the first and third definitions more.

Because adoption is more than a formal legal act,it is a choice to enter a new relationship.

This is my second installment to clarify the things I wrote in my prior post, Adoption Pet Peeves. The last point in my original post was also upsetting to a number of you.

The section of the original post is italicized. I’ve added comments/clarifications in bold.

Here is part 2:

A word or two about the proper adoption terminology.

Apparently, the term “biological” isn’t PC anymore. However, I don’t like the term “birth parents” because only one person is a birth parent, the mother. Where does that leave the father?[Someone said this point indicated I thought the child-parent bond didn’t extend beyond that of the birth. I argue the exact opposite. The meaning of birth is, as quoted from dictionary.com, “anactorinstanceofbeingborn” and “theactorprocessofbearingorbringingforthoffspring.” When I consider the definition of birth, it seems to use the term is to say the parental bond DOES NOT extent beyond birth.]

Also, I was there for Paige’s birth, so couldn’t I also be called the birth mother? [That same person said my presence in the birthing room was coercive but if she had read any of my other blog posts, she would know I had no intention of adopting Ruth’s daughters when I became her birth coach.]

A second term I’ve heard is “first parents.” I don’t like that one because we adopted through foster care and technically we are our girls’ third parents.

Another term I’ve heard is “life parents.” This is true because they gave my girls physical life. However, I am giving them a life by raising them so that term isn’t accurate either. [All of these terms are a matter of semantics, I suppose. I’m a bit of a perfectionist in that regard and it comes out here.]

I recently heard the terms “real parents” or “natural parents.” These terms absolutely disgust me!! (The other terms don’t bother me; I just choose not to use them.) It implies I am not an actual parent and my daughters don’t have real parents. It also implies our family is unnatural, or wrong. [Until recently, I’d only heard “natural” and “real” parent used by adoptees who didn’t have good relationships with their adoptive parents and thought there was nothing good about adoption. Obviously, the tone with which those words were used put me on the defense. Thanks to adoptee activist Angela Barra, an absolutely amazing and lovely woman who uses the term “natural parent,” I’ve been educated about the term natural parent. I still don’t like the term but now I understand it.]

To me, biologicalbirthparents is exactly what they are; people who gave my girls their biology but are not raising them.[I recently asked both my daughters and Ruth what term they prefer. They all said birth parent so that is what I am using from here on out. I still prefer the term biological, but will use the term they chose because I love and respect them.]

Though, to be honest, I think Payton came up with the best term of all. Shortly after she began calling us mommy and daddy, she began calling her biologicalbirthparents “my other mommy and daddy.”

I have absolutely no problem with that – she does have two mommies and two daddies. [And this, Dear Adoptee, was the whole point. I am not the only mother in my daughters’ lives; to deny that is to deny a vital part of them. That is something I will NEVER do!]

The one that comes to mind involves my older daughter, Payton. She moved in with us shortly before she turned three. Having only the experience of parenting my son, Eli, I assumed she would benefit from the same parenting techniques he did.

This parenting thing is all a trial and error, as you all know.

This was more of an error…

I was in the kitchen making lunch (maybe it was dinner) when Payton walked in and stubbed her toe on the table.

My son gets distracted and laughs if we exaggerate how we’re going to fix his injury so when Payton started crying, I said, Oh, no, we’re going to have to cut off your toe!

She didn’t understand I was joking.

Her brown eyes got huge and she grabbed her toe, screaming.

Both Eli and I had to do a lot of talking to convince her I wasn’t serious.

The therapy jar got a $50 bill after that one…

Do you have an embarrassing adoption moment? Or do you just want to get involved with an adoption support community? Click the Adoption Talk badge in my sidebar or the link above to meet others involved in the adoption triad.

I upset you a while back when I wrote a blog post titled, Adoption Pet Peeves. Believe me when I say that was not my intention. My hope is the edited blog posts will clarify my intent.

A section of the original post is italicized. I’ve added comments/clarifications in bold.

I’m starting with the part of the post that caused the most upset:

“I have been told that I’m a wonderful person for adopting a child through foster care; most people couldn’t do it. Breaking news! Having a biological child is a crap shootjust as much as adopting a child through foster care. [I don’t sugarcoat things. My daughters’ parents are drug addicts/recovering drug addicts; the 16 scars from my heart surgery are ugly; my husband is bald. You get the picture.] In some ways, having a biological child is even more risky!

There is no “return policy“ [I just added quotes to return policy so you know I’m not using this term lightly. I phrased it this way to make my writing succinct, not disrespectful.] on your biological child but, believe or not, there is with an adopted child. [I included believe it or not in the original post to express my surprise, not to promote adopting because you can dissolve it.]

A trial period of at least six months is required before you can finalize. You also have two weeks post adoption to change your mind. [When this was explained to my husband and me when we signed the adoption papers, I was surprised. Guess I should have included believe it or not here as well.]

Regardless of this somewhat controversial fact,[I say somewhat because I believe the six-month trial period is a good thing. Children adopted through foster care have been through a lot. Making sure the family and child are a good fit is a good idea to prevent further upheaval in the child’s life.]

[THE FOLLOWING PARAGRAPH WAS MY WHOLE POINT OF THIS PART OF THE BLOG POST. It was originally written about five years ago as a note on my Facebook page. Its intended audience was friends who have no experience with adoption. My hope was the tongue-and-cheek wording would demonstrate how absurd it was to say I was a wonderful person for adopting through foster care.] I think there is something even more important to consider: Why do you want children? Is it for selfish reasons? Or is it to unconditionally love and raise a child, regardless of challenges and joys?”

So there you have it, Dear Adoptee – the intention behind this post. Please forgive me for not taking into consideration how these words could effect you.

On Thursday I participated in Erin Bohn’s Adoption Talk linkup. The topic was Adoption in the Media.

One of the most frustrating things for me has been and continues to be the lack of support for foster-adopt parents through personal stories. It is one of the reasons I wrote mine and am working hard to get it published.

Adoption stories tend to look like this:

International or domestic infant adoption.

Infertility catalyst; story is about that as much as it is about adoption.

Storybook ending, for both adoptive parents and adoptee.

This is my story, and I’m not alone in it:

We adopted through foster care. Most on this topic of help/education books.

We weren’t infertile.

Our story contains many challenges both pre and post adoption.

I wanted to find a story about real people who who understood my thoughts and feelings because they’d gone through it themselves.

I wanted to know my questions and concerns were normal, as were my mistakes.

I wanted to read about the second thoughts, the misgivings… if anyone else wanted to ditch their kid and run.

It probably sounds like I regret adopting my daughters, and, I do admit, there are days I wonder what the hell I was thinking; however, what I regret is not realizing how hard it would be, and how important it is to have a support system.

This is what I want to share with others who are parenting children with a trauma background:

This weekend I am going to see the musical, Wicked, which is the musical about the friendship between Glinda and the Wicked Witch of the West, whom the author of the novel named Elphaba.

Important History: The first time I saw it, my hubby and I were celebrating our sixth wedding anniversary at Universal Studios in Hollywood. We chose this getaway because we were in the final stages of foster-adoption certification and knew both time and finances would be tight for a while. It was our last big hurrah before committing to having another child.

It was two months prior that I met Ruth* and witnessed Paige’s birth.

When people say: Oh, what a coincidence, I disagree. I believe these coincidences are God at work.

So it comes as no surprise that after God’s plans for us to adopt the girls fell neatly into place, a song from the musical would make me think of Ruth.